


Cherries and Honey

by AzuraKenway



Category: BlacKkKlansman (2018)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-08 19:22:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15936701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzuraKenway/pseuds/AzuraKenway
Summary: The reader is a reporter (her and Flip don’t get along) and one day Flip and reader are arguing about something and they run into some of the kkk. Reader, wanting to get the scoop on Flip’s case, introduces herself as his wife and they have to fake a relationship for the rest of the case.





	Cherries and Honey

That voice grated on him like cheese that had been left out and gone too hard. The insistent pen clicking the only prior warning he got before you came through the door, notepad in hand, skirt tight and heels polished. The polite smile you had given to the officers on the way in fell at the sight of him, usual plaid shirt untucked and feet on his desk.

“What do you want?” He said, not bothering to look up from the file he was reading. If he couldn’t tell by the characteristic click of heels, he could tell who it was just by the smell of your perfume. A stench that he wanted out of his office as soon as possible.

“Don’t play coy with me, Philip. You know what I’m here for.”

She’s bluffing he told himself, there’s no way she could know. He lowered the file just enough for his eyes to peek over the folder. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a seat on his desk. “Please. That’s the first thing people say when they know exactly what you’re talking about.” You pulled a small card of paper from your coat pocket, and placed it in front of him. He opened it, spreading the contents, finding his face in every photo.

“How did you get these?” He whispered harshly, pinning the photos down with his palm so that you couldn’t snatch them back.

“I have copies. And I swore to confidentiality with my client, so I can’t tell you who spilled. But your operation isn’t jeopardised, I’m the only one who knows.”

“Perfect. That means by tomorrow the whole of Colorado Springs will know too.” Flip grumbled, running his hand through his hair.

“Hmm… I think I’ll keep your pretty face to myself. For now.” You pocketed the pictures.

Flip groaned. “I’ll only ask you once. No games, (Y/n). What do you want?” He punctuated each word with a pause to emphasise his annoyance.

You smiled sweetly, bending close enough to hook a finger around his Star of David necklace.

“This could be my big break, you dig? I promise I’ll withhold from publishing anything until the investigation is closed, but I want anything and everything. I want to know what cereal those KKK bastards have for breakfast, I want to know what brand of toothpaste they know. Everything, Philip.”

“I can’t share sensitive information with a citizen.” He said through gritted teeth, swiping your hand from his neck, his grip on your wrist tight. “So take your expensive shoes and disgusting perfume and leave the station before I’m forced to escort you out.”

Your eyes glimmered with zeal. “Is that a threat, Detective?”

“Yes.” He let you go.

You stood, straightening your skirt and regaining your posture. “You’ll find that I don’t scare that easy.”

And with that you left him, the sound of your clicking pen and heels fading away bringing him solace.

Flip didn’t know how many times he could bear getting strapped with microphones and driving to Felix’s house for the weekly meetings. By now he had settled in, and felt like good progress was being made. His nerves easily calmed if he took deep breaths, and he bolstered himself up with his impeccable acting (lying) skills. But he still kept on his toes, aware that with antsy people things could go south at any moment.

He just hadn’t expected things to go badly so quickly.

As he waited at Felix’s door, hearing Corrie’s hurried footsteps as she made her way to answer the doorbell, he heard the clicking of heels on pavement.

He turned, his heart thumping. He looked to the car where Ron was, his mouth hanging from behind the camera as you strutted right to Flip’s side.

“You alright honey?” You asked, taking off your sunglasses. You wore a silk bonnet and a dress that hugged your figure, AKA the most suspicious ‘under cover’ getup for a woman to wear, at least in Flip’s books. He opened his mouth to tell you to get away, but before he could the door swung open.

“Ron! How are you?” Connie exclaimed, then as her vision trailed to you her smiled faltered. “Who’s this?”

“I’m so sorry to show up unannounced, Mrs. Kendrickson. I just got into town so I asked if I could tag along with Ron for today.” You played it coolly, pushing out your hand, a large diamond hanging from it. “I’m Penelope Stallworth, Ron’s wife.”

Corrie gave you a warm handshake, then looked to Flip. “Ron never told me he had a wife.”

Your face fell. But it was all a part of the show. “Probably because he was hoping to get one of his friends to set him up with someone while I was away for work. Typical.” You huffed. Corrie gave an awkward smile.

“Well, come in, there’s more than enough food for one extra!”

You took the invitation instantly, pushing past Flip to follow Corrie inside. “Is that cherry pie I smell?”

“It is!” Corrie answered happily.

“Would you teach me your recipe? I must’ve tried at least a dozen, and all of them come out with the crust too soggy.” You asked innocently. Corrie took your hand, already taking a liking to you.

“Of course sweetie! There’s a special step that I add to make it…” Your voices drifted into the kitchen as Flip made his way straight to the living room, where the rest of the men were. Each step was accompanied with the real Ron’s worried voice.

“You need to figure this out Flip! We can’t let ‘Mrs. Stallworth’ ruin your cover!”

I know I know he thought to himself, trying to appear unfazed by the sudden change in narrative. He greeted the other men in the room and started twisting his story to fit your unexpected appearance.

“…And I’ve been talking to a hot little thing that I met at a bar last week, we were supposed to meet up tonight but now…” Flip shook his head. “I’m real sorry, I never wanted you guys to find out I was cheating on my wife. I didn’t know how you’d react.”

The men all nodded, understanding.

“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. If I were in your position I’d do the same.” Walter said, the others agreeing. “You better hide that hand, though. She’ll notice that you’re not wearing your ring.”

Flip nodded, looking appropriately caught off guard.

Then you walked into the room, cherry pie in hand, and it went dead silent. Felix leaned over to whisper in Flip’s ear. “You want me to believe that you’re cheating on that.” He blew a low whistle.

All eyes followed you as you placed the food down, helping Corrie. “Everyone this is Penelope, Ron’s wife.” Corrie told them. You gave a shy wave and then took a seat on the arm of Flip’s chair.

He stared at you, hoping to convey every ounce of annoyance that simmered in his soul at that moment. But when you turned to face him, he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You have red all over your face.” He said.

You shrugged. “I may have snuck a cherry or two.”

Flip shuffled to face you. “Come here.” He said, licking his thumb then wiping away the red staining on your chin and around your mouth. Your heart stammered as his finger glossed over your bottom lip. “There.” He released breathily.

“Maybe the ladies can share cleaning tips in the kitchen while the men talk about their important business.” Felix interrupted, pointedly talking to you and Corrie.

You got up. “Of course.” You smiled politely, then retired from the room with Corrie.

When the gathering was finally over, and the door closed, as you sat in Flip’s car he released a deep sigh.

“What the hell (Y/n)! You could have ruined everything. You put not only me but yourself in danger showing up at this house, do you understand?” Flip yelled, his face going red.

“I understand!” You shouted back angrily. “But you left me no choice!”

“No choice? You gave me no choice when you showed up claiming to be my wife. Don’t you understand how that complicates my story? I’ll have to explain this to the Chief and convince him to keep the investigation running, which I doubt will happen. You’re not some super smart spy, (Y/n), you’re just a failed writer who has a death wish.”

Flip’s chest heaved as he ranted, leaving you to recoil into the leather seat, frozen.

He tried to convince himself in that moment that he was right, that you deserved this backlash, but as he watched silent tears fall onto your cheeks he wanted to take it all back. You quickly swiped them away, sniffing.

“I’ll send what I learnt from Corrie to your office.” You said, opening the door. You stepped out into the cold night. “Then I’ll leave you alone. For good.”

Flip watched as you walked to your car and hopped in, driving away fast. His head fell onto the steering wheel, his heart feeling like it had been impaled.

He went straight back to the station, and after the mics were taken off and he explained the situation to Ron, both swearing not to mention this to anyone, he collapsed into his office chair.

There was a stack of notes signed by you – all full of valuable information about KKK meetups and people who had visited the Kendrickson home. Flip couldn’t believe you had gotten so much intel. And as he read the last page of your unofficial report, he was reminded of how rude he had been. He had insulted your profession and your ability, and for what? To prove that he was better than you? What you had done was uncalled for, and could’ve ruined everything, but you were so much smarter than he gave you credit for, and your role had possibly given him a new lead in this case.

So he did what he thought was right. He needed to get his wife back.

The last thing you had expected was for Flip Zimmerman to show up at your door.

You had already begun closing it to the sight of a bouquet of flowers when his foot shot out, keeping the door ajar.

“Ouch.” He murmured, a pained smile on his face. “Listen, just hear me out for a minute, will you?”

You crossed your arms. “Fifty-nine seconds and counting.”

“Okay. Uh… I was dumb. I bought these flowers to make up for it. Will you please be my wife?”

“What?” You frowned as Flip got on one knee, retrieving a red velvet box that had been hidden amongst the stems of the roses he held. He opened the box, but it was empty.

“I think you should wear the same fake ring that you wore yesterday, since you have a cover to keep up.” He said. “But I wanted to propose this to you: continue to be my wife and get info from Corrie Kendrickson, and I’ll make sure you have your story when the investigation wraps up.”

You still felt wary. “Why the change of heart? Am I now suddenly valuable to you because I’m a tool for your case?”

Flip sighed, placing the roses and ring box on the floor. He took your hands as he stood. “No, (Y/n), not just because of that. Listen, I got mad yesterday because what you did was… unexpected to say the least. But while I had time to think I realised that the main reason I was so upset was because you could have seriously gotten hurt. One wrong move, one wrong word, and they would’ve strung you to a burning cross with no hesitation.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but you’re basically contradicting yourself by asking for me to throw myself into that environment again.” You retorted.

Flip nodded. “That was before I realised how smart you are. Hell, I think you’re capable of leading an operation like this. You think quickly, on your feet, and you’re not thrown off by anything.”

“Fine. I’ll do it. But not because you tried to flatter me. I’m doing this for my career.” You replied curtly, tugging your hands out of his. “But I won’t forgive you for what you said to me. I am in no way inferior to you; don’t forget that just because I have to keep up the act that I am.”

“Come here.” Was all he said in response, drawing your body to his in a hug. You froze, again. He held you tightly, his broad chest so warm and safe, his annoying cologne suddenly filling your nose with its beautiful piny scent. And Flip could smell you, cherries and cinnamon, the smell so inviting. To touch you, to have you in his arms, it was dismaying. Because everything he had built you up to be in his head had just been dismantled. You smelt so lovely and felt so soft and every bad thought he had ever thought of you was nullified.

You cleared your throat, parting from him. “Um, I’m baking cherry pie inside. Would you like to come in and talk about the investigation?”

Flip nodded. His hand fell to your waist as he followed you in, and to his surprise you didn’t move away. “We might as well practice being husband and wife. You know, fall into familiarity so the act is more convincing.” He explained.

“In that case.” You stopped, turned and got on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to his. Past the initial shock, Flip melted into your soft lips, holding your supple waist with his big hands. When you pulled away you were both flustered and breathless. “For practice.”

Flip blinked. “Uh, yeah. Practice. We’ll be needing to do that a lot. Make it believable.”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

You then twirled back and kept walking to the kitchen.

“Oh, honey?”

“Hm.” Flip perked up, his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Bring those roses inside, I want to put them in a vase.”

He grinned. “Anything for you, honey.”


End file.
